


The Olive Green T-Shirt

by tac_winchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean, Dean's POV, Flashback, Impala, Little Brother Sam, Memories, Oneshot, Sibling Love, not wincest, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 19:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3781012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tac_winchester/pseuds/tac_winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their way to the next hunt, Dean remembers something that reminds him why he is who he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Olive Green T-Shirt

The American backroads stretched across dry plains and basked in the direct sunlight. During that strange period of time where summer hasn’t ended but fall hasn’t started, nature painted the skies a soft blue with dappled white puffs of clouds. On either side of the road, the remains of corn fields were squashed upon flat dirt. Each slice of farmland was separated by a small patch of short trees and dead leaves.

  
Our Impala rumbled along these long scenic paths, disturbing the peaceful view. The road was her catwalk. If only others could witness her sleek black beauty. Our 1967 Impala would put all of their new and plastic cars to shame.

  
Sammy sat beside me on the passenger side while I drove. After our last hunt, I was pumped up with success while Metallica blasted throughout the car. Sam stared out of the side window with a pleased expression. I glanced at my twenty-two-year old little brother while he hummed along to the beat.

  
Something about his outfit brought back memories of when he was just a chubby four-year old. He wore an olive green T-shirt where the bottom of it fell past his fingertips. The fabric hung off of his broad yet slim frame. Sam’s giraffe-like legs were covered in soft old jeans that were perfect for hunting from being worn so often. The entire ensemble carved out one special memory I used to always refer to when times became tough between him and I.

  
Our dad started leaving me to watch Sammy alone in motel rooms when I was about eight and a half while Sam was four. He would be gone for a few days unless he could help it, but always left me a gun in each room. Around this age, Sam had begun to ask questions that I couldn’t answer. He’d interrogate me over canned Spaghetti-o’s or Sunday cartoons about Mom’s absence and Dad’s job, which left me tongue tied with no appetite. Soon, he realized he would not get answers for a long time. This was probably influenced by me getting upset whenever he’d talk about Mom, or how I covered Dad for every single thing. Even when Dad made mistakes and came home drunk, I defended him until I sounded so stupid I didn’t understand my own words.

  
Sam gradually adjusted to Dad leaving all the time and having me take care of him. He would sit in front of the television while Dad ran through those strict rules with me one last time.

  
“Lock the doors and windows, close the shades, and most importantly..” he’d tell me and wait for me to finish his thought.

  
“Watch out for Sammy,” I’d always fill in the blank. Then he’d walk out and I was left to run through the drill. When the Impala could no longer be heard in the distance, I’d sit beside Sam on the lumpy motel couch.

  
One time, Sam had been in a funny mood. Instead of sulking because Dad left, he giggled happily while watching Batman defeat the Penguin. He turned to me with that innocent smile I dearly missed and pointed at the screen. “I want to be a superhero for Halloween!” he said.

  
Although I didn’t wish to be a killjoy, I said, “Sammy, you don’t have a costume.”

  
“Yes I do!” he jutted his lip out. “Close your eyes, and I bet I can dress up into my favorite hero costume in under a minute!”

  
I played along obediently and shut my eyes tightly. “Alright, Sammy. Do your thing,” I said. I heard him leap off of the couch and unzip one of our duffel bags. Clothes fell to the carpeted floor as he ruffled through what he was searching for. His shoes tumbled across the floor, and I let out a little snort of laughter at the clumsiness he still had today.

  
Once Sam finally got into his costume, he allowed me to open my eyes. My little brother stood in front of the television wearing one of my T-shirts and that one pair of shorts I had for the summer. My shirt dropped to his scraped knees, and the hem of the sleeves brushed his forearms. Even though he wore my shorts, they still ended far below his knees. The costume appeared to be completely ridiculous, but the wide grin on Sam’s face stitched together its entire worth.

  
My heart swelled as Sammy cheered, “I’m you, De!” He twisted around in the olive green shirt but never took his eyes off of my face. I returned the bright smile and laughed along with him.

  
“I see that. Thank you, Sammy,” I said. I wiped my eye with the knuckle of my index finger but turned my head.

  
Sammy looked confused for a moment but sprung back with another smile. “You’re welcome, Dean.”

  
The memory ended as we passed a sign that read, “Welcome to South Dakota”. The eight track of Metallica faded to a stop until Sam took it out and replaced it with a Zepplin track. I glanced at him as the music started and allowed a small smile to rest on my lips.

  
Sam happened to glance over and instantly noticed. “What are you smirking about?” A new grin broke out onto his face.

  
“Ain’t nothing, Sammy. Just remembering,” I said.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: nac-winchester.tumblr.com


End file.
